


next to your heartbeat (where i should be)

by orphan_account



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, I hope it rots your teeth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5525978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes so much effort for Newt not to giggle from his hiding spot, veins suddenly filled with the giddiness of his youth. Thomas always had this effect on him, a certain air of frivolity that made everything seem lighter.</p><p>or that christmas au they finally get it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	next to your heartbeat (where i should be)

**Author's Note:**

> i thought it was time for me to level up a bit as a writer so this is my christmas break baby + thank you loads and loads to lyca for being the absolute best beta reader a writer could hope for this fic would've been a train wreck without you :^)

It all starts when Newt hears something clack on his bedroom window. He's pretty sure it's a little past twelve, the middle of the night on a Tuesday. He scrambles out of bed, heading to his window once the thought registers; because only one person would be stupid enough to be awake—here, at this hour. "Thomas?" he hisses.

"In the flesh. Literally. I forgot to bring a jacket; I'm freezing. Let me in?" Thomas half whisper-half shouts with a tiny grin, teeth as white as the snow beneath his feet. His face is pink from the cold, hands rubbing against each other in the hope of generating a little heat.

"You're an idiot you know that? A bloody idiot." Newt says, but he's already left the window to grab a spare coat and head downstairs. _Only he’d pull this shit. — Well, only you’d put up with it. Oh, shut up._

He opens his door to find Thomas' face staring back at him; and he just stands there for a bit. Not knowing if it's because he's waiting for Thomas to say something or because he wants to spend a little more time staring at his best friend’s rosy cheeks. _Cute,_ he thinks, mentally cursing himself for it.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed when Thomas suddenly declares, "I'm your idiot though." as he tracks his slippers on Newt's porch. The ‘welcome’ printed on the mat underneath him reduced to three letters.

"What? What are you talking about?" Newt replies, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"I heard you. I'm a 'bloody' idiot. I'm not going to deny that it's true, but I’m _your_ idiot." Newt isn't sure what the groan that escapes his mouth is for, Thomas trying to imitate his accent, or him finding it incredibly endearing. Thomas just grins wider.

"Okay, Mr. _Bloody_ Idiot, what brings you to my humble abode at this hour?" Newt quips, closing the door after Thomas. They don’t turn on the heating at night, so he makes sure to shut the door before it gets too chilly inside. He’s only wearing pajamas after all.

Thomas just replies "You." in a deadpan manner, and this is it. This is how Newt dies. Not because of old age or anything of the like. He'll die with his heart hammering in his chest and hand clutching his doorknob too tightly.

Newt is pretty sure he's spaced out for quite a bit when Thomas snaps his fingers in front of his face. It makes him blink twice. _Not dead yet, then._ "Hello? Earth to Newt? Isaac Newton? Anyone in there?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just a little bit tired is all. Why are you looking for me exactly?" He asks, handing the coat towards the direction of his best friend. He turns his back from Thomas to sit down on his couch and take a breather.

"I want to go on a walk. At the park, preferably. Come with?" Thomas phrases this like it’s a question, even if he’s got that smirk on his face that means he knows Newt can never say no to him. It gets really annoying sometimes.

“You mean right now? Even when the sun hasn’t come up yet? In our pajamas?” Newt knows he’s going to agree eventually, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make himself easy. It’s like a second nature for him to at least try and dissuade the brunette from doing something insane.

“Right now. You and me. In our pajamas. Yes. Ready?” Technically, Newt hasn’t given him an answer yet, but it’s Thomas, and he’s going to get dragged in this either way. So just rolls his eyes and nods his head like he hasn’t done so a million times before.

“Alright. One condition: Not in your pajamas or mine—we have to change into something a little more presentable maybe. You can borrow my clothes.” Newt says this and Thomas wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at him, making Newt’s cheeks as red as Thomas’ own.

“Fuck you,” he replies, trying to hide his blush.

"You would like that wouldn’t you?” Thomas quips, laughing at his own joke right after. Newt groans for what seems to be the nth time tonight, and shoves Thomas up his stairs to end the conversation.

—

They only take a few minutes to change, Thomas having a good idea of which shirts are slightly too big on Newt, and settling for one of his jumpers. Before they leave the house to head for the park, Newt makes sure to leave a note for his sister Sonya to find because his parents are out on a business trip.

The park is empty; which is expected, and the trees are white and bare of leaves. Newt isn’t sure what they’re supposed to be doing really, but Thomas is humming some Christmas song and the aura around them is pleasant. Newt’s shoulder bumps into Thomas every once in a while, and all he feels is warmth. Though he was a bit reluctant to agree to this unplanned escaped just a few minutes ago, he’s starting to think this was a pretty neat idea. _Or maybe just being with Thomas alone is a reward in itself._

“Let’s go somewhere. I’m in the mood for moving.” Thomas stretches and yawns.

_"Ah, where will we even go? We have classes today, Thomas. It’s the last day before Christmas break," Newt supplies, puffs of air from his mouth frosted by the late December air._

There's a pause, and Thomas turns back to face Newt, "I sort of have a plan, but it doesn't really matter so long as we're together. Anywhere with you is inviting enough," Thomas declares, and Newt's heart jumps in his chest like crazy because Thomas is giving him that goddamn smile where the sides of his eyes crinkled because of how wide it is.

He wants to tell Thomas that he can't just say things like that. Not when Newt's been in love with him for as long as he can remember. But it's Thomas—and he's always said whatever's on his mind, and Newt wouldn't have him any other way. "Alright. Let's go. I'm not in the mood to hear Janson's voice today anyway."

Thomas' smile gets impossibly wider and Newt doesn't know what he's gotten himself into because if Thomas is going to look at him like that the entire night, he isn't going to make it. So he clears his throat, voice only cracking slightly, "Where to, captain?"

"Let's go find out." Newt isn't prepared at all for what Thomas does next. He holds out his hand, presumably for Newt to take it. So he does—albeit a little, ( _very_ ) reluctantly because of his crush. Thomas squeezes his hand once or twice (Newt melts and he wouldn’t be able to help being dragged in the other direction if he wanted to.)

—

Newt is surprised to find himself at the library, because it’s his favorite place, not Thomas’. It’s also supposed to be closed at this hour. “How are we going to get in?” He isn’t sure why he whispers, because it’s just him and Thomas here, but it seems appropriate.

“I’ve got keys. Teresa works here remember? She lent me them.” Thomas grins back, twisting said key into the lock of the back entrance.

Newt doesn’t think he’s ever experienced silence like this. Sure, the library is always quiet, but there's usually the sound of writing materials clattering or people sliding books out of shelves. There isn't even much light, just a couple of bulbs that are on—probably for the security guard just in case. It makes him a little more self-conscious, because the air around him and Thomas just seems thicker, like it's supposed to mean something. That is until, of course, Thomas breaks the quiet hum of crickets outside the building.

"Let's play hide and seek. Like we used to, you know? When we were kids?" Thomas asks, and this time (unlike the last) he actually sounds like he's asking for permission, like he wants Newt to be on board with this fully.

"Why? Not saying no, just curious **,** " Newt inquires, feeling a tinge of nervousness mainly because he doesn't want to hide somewhere in this dark, empty library at night.

"For fun. Please? For me? I promise I'll find you. I've always found you haven't I? Even that time—" Newt cuts Thomas off, because he knows where this is going.

"Yeah. Okay, I get it, even when you couldn't for two whole hours but you refused to leave me hiding." Thomas perks up a little at that, probably because he didn't expect Newt to remember. But how could he ever forget how Thomas enveloped him in the tightest hug ever and whispered ' _I found you, I found you, I found you._ ' when he did.

"So is that a yes?" Thomas asks again, this time looking a little more hopeful.

"Yes. Why don't you hide instead though?" Newt's agreed, but that still doesn't mean he wants to be alone in this place, cramped between some shelves or under some dusty table.

Well, I've just decided no more hiding for me. Not anymore **,** " Thomas declares, and it's pretty obscure, but it sounds final, so Newt doesn't push further and just nods his head.

"Ready?"

—

Newt's already regretting saying yes to this game. He's been plopped behind the counter for about thirty minutes now. Or longer. He isn't sure, he didn't think of putting on a watch. It's also pretty chilly because the heating's turned off at night.

The place is anything but small, and he's getting worried Thomas won't be able to find him before the sun rises. The only thing keeping him from moving is that he knows Thomas won't stop looking for him. 

It takes a couple more minutes of collecting dust and making himself as warm as possible before Newt hears someone shuffle over, ungracefully at that; audibly moving chairs around and muttering a string of curse words when they knock one over.

It takes so much effort for Newt not to giggle from his hiding spot, veins suddenly filled with the giddiness of his youth. Thomas always had this effect on him, a certain air of frivolity that made everything seem lighter. He uses the scarf he's wearing to cover his mouth and avoid making too much noise. It seems to work, because he hears Thomas shuffling about once again, slower this time.

He's about to try and move into a more comfortable position to wait for Thomas to come around again when he feels a tap on his shoulder. A pair of hands circle around his waist and crush him in a hug. "I found you, I found you, I found you." Thomas huffs, body visibly relaxing into the embrace. Newt's cheeks turn a deep shade of crimson and he desperately hopes Thomas won't pull out and see him.

The ringing in Newt's ears tells him to hug back. So he does. He rests his chin on Thomas' shoulder and buries his face into his coat. _This isn't bloody fair. Not at all._

Thomas is acting as little weird, but it feels safe; even if Newt isn't sure what any of this means yet.

Thomas pulls off first, moving to sit next to Newt instead. The both of them stay like that for a while in comfortable silence. Newt thinks he could fall asleep like this, tucked around some corner of a library, warmth spreading through his whole being. He's pretty sure Thomas isn't that keen on moving either, so he lets himself be lulled by sleep. He counts the specks of dust that are illuminated by the limited amount of light they have and pretends he could do the same to the freckles on Thomas' cheeks. (And if he ends up sleeping on Thomas then it's no one's business.)

—

Newt wakes up to a head leaning on his own. The proximity should bother him, but it doesn't. He’s sort of had an epiphany; that this is his best friend, this is _his_ Tommy. This is the same next-door neighbour from childhood, and if Newt were to confess or be found out, Thomas wouldn't just abandon him. In fact, Newt would probably do more avoiding than he would.

So he does something that he's never done first before; he reaches out for Thomas' hand and clasps it with his own, gives it a little squeeze and goes back to sleep. 

He doesn't notice the small tug on his companion's lips and he's too drowsy to decide whether or not he felt Thomas squeeze back. (Newt finds out a bit later. He did.)

Newt wakes up to someone nudging his arm. It takes a while for him to get up—he's pretty sure it's still dark outside. He's met with a pair of wide brown eyes and a sheepish smile. "Hi," he croaks out.

"Hi. I'm sorry to wake you, I just-I want to go back to the park before morning. Is that cool?" Thomas says, and for some reason he seems a little nervous. Thomas was always a naturally confident bugger; Newt could always tell when he wasn't.

So Newt obliges.

—

The walk back to the park is abnormally quiet, not unpleasant but kind of ominous to Newt. Thomas half-skips and half-slides next to him. He's fiddling with his hands, and Newt holds himself back from staring at them, because best friends don't make googly eyes at each other’s fingers. _But they're so pretty and veiny and Newt wishes he got to hold them a bit longer._

Thomas comes to a stop and turns to face him once again and if it wasn't so dark out Newt would think he was a bit upset. Nonetheless, Thomas holds out his hand again, _much to Newt's joy_ , knuckles white from the cold. He takes it, and Thomas makes a move closer. Icy fingers make their way around Newt's waist, pulling him so he's face to face with his best friend.

Thomas sways them both: moving in slow, gentle movements as if to coax Newt into loosening up. Needless to say, it works. Newt’s never felt this satisfied in his life. He’s pretty sure they’re both toeing the ‘just friends’ line a little too closely, but the park is empty and Thomas is just so, _Thomas_. He’s warm and mindful and he’s got that little sad smile Newt’s fallen in love with over and over again, and most of all—he feels like home.

There isn’t much of a performance to pull off without music, or properly coordinated dance steps for that matter, but Newt swears the way Thomas stares right at him is priceless. They take a couple more minutes before Thomas stops to pull him into yet another hug, and Newt is starting to get suspicious. “I’m going to miss this. A lot **,** ” Thomas huffs, and if Newt hadn’t known Thomas for as long as he did, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight crack in his voice. 

“I’m not going anywhere y’know?” Newt breathes out a nervous laugh. This whole night is starting to feel like a goodbye to him. He doesn’t like it.

“Please don’t do that. Don’t promise things you aren’t sure of **,** ” Thomas winces. His smile grows a little weaker every second. Newt doesn’t understand. He would never leave Thomas all alone. No matter what.

“Look, the reason I pulled all this off is because—I’ve been planning this for a little while already, but I just, I chickened out every time. Teresa’s been nagging me about it for a while, and I still couldn’t bring myself to do it. But the other day, when I fell asleep in class—through lunch even, you didn’t wake me up because you knew I’d pulled an all-nighter for that physics exam. You waited up for me, in a nearly abandoned classroom, and you weren’t even mad. Don’t try to deny it because woke up and you were there and you smiled at me and ruffled my hair and oh my god, I nearly confessed right then and there.”  Thomas hadn’t looked at Newt once going through the entire speech, his words failing him at certain times, but now he looks up at Newt, eyes glinting with tears and hands pulled tight into fists.

“I’m in love with you. It’s hard to remember a time I wasn’t. And I know you don’t feel the same way, but I really can’t hide it any longer. I feel like I’ve been taking advantage of you all this time. So, no more hiding. I’m in love with you Isaac Newton, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop being in love with you. This night was my last take; I won’t bother you about any of this ever again. I guess I’ll see you around.” Thomas finishes and he turns around to run. He runs until Newt can’t see the back of his borrowed jumper any longer. 

Newt just stands there, willing himself to go after his best friend. But this is too much for him. His legs give out from under him and he just sits there, breaths heavy and heart jumping out of his chest. Thomas is in love with him. Maybe even for as long as Newt has been in love with Thomas. He’s shocked and elated and right now, the world is in full color for him. Everything just makes more sense; every shade of blue is just, deeper.

—

Newt is going to go _insane._ He hasn’t been able to get a hold of Thomas for nearly a week now. It’s driving him up a wall. Minho says he always looks like someone’s kicked his puppy or whatever. He hasn’t been sleeping or eating properly for days. Every time he tries to walk up to Thomas’ porch he only reaches his doormat before chickening out. It’s just too much for him.

He’s grateful that everyone around him (with the exception of Minho) is too busy fussing over Christmas to notice him moping over his best friend. When Newt’s mother asks him if Thomas is going to spend the twenty-fifth with them, (like every other one before, courtesy of Thomas’ seemingly always absent parents) he shrugs and says probably. ‘Probably’ because the longest time they’ve gone without communicating is a grand total of fourteen days, seven hours and fifteen minutes. _Newt knows. He’s counted himself. No use lying to himself that he did._ Christmas will arrive long before that mark.

On the sixth day he’s had to wake up without a good morning text, Newt heads out of his home to do something that doesn’t involve Thomas for the first time in ages. This happens when Newt is pretty sure he’s heard the phrase “’tis the season to be jolly” enough times to at least try to bring truth to it. The air is chilly, and somehow being alone helps him remember how much he actually liked the cold. He thinks it’s refreshing. His feet seem to have a mind of their own as they take him towards his front lawn. The snow is thick; Newt felt his feet sink a little with every step he took.

There isn’t much to do when everyone is home prepping for the holidays. The shopping malls are cluttered with all sorts of people doing last minute gift shopping; and the library packed with students finishing up their final essays, so he brings himself to the same park he and Thomas visited just a few nights ago. He tries not to think about it. It works for a little bit.

He’d never realized how pleasant their local park was: usually empty aside from the few kind elderly that like to stroll there, quiet sort of humming present at all times. The lack of people make it infinitely easier for him to lay down on the snow, giggling a bit at the frost that nips at the back of his neck. The sunlight dances on his fingertips, and suddenly he’s reminded of a pair of warm brown eyes. The thought makes him frown. _No Thomas for today._

Newt spreads out his hands and spindly legs and decides to make a snow angel. _For the hell of it._ He waves his arms and thighs around and laughs because damn, he’s too old for this. Nonetheless, he keeps on with it; only standing up when he thinks he’s done enough to make a decent shape. He turns to look at the ground and throws his head back in laughter. _It looks absolutely nothing like an angel_ . He points at it and makes to moves his head to his right, realizing halfway that he has no one to laugh _with_.

Newt has his second epiphany that week: He misses Thomas. _dearly._ What’s the point of doing stupid things if there isn’t anyone there to share those moments with you?  He resolves it’s time to go home.

_If home even is a place._

—

The rest of the days leading up to Christmas Eve all fade away in a blur; Newt wakes up, eats at weird times of the day, and goes back to sleep. _Robotically._ It’s safe to say he’s not doing so well.

His parents ask him on the twenty-fourth if he wants to head out with them and Sonya to deliver last minute gifts, but he declines. He’s not ready for an endless line of bear hugs and cheek pinches from distant relatives he hasn’t talked to in ages. Newt bids them goodbye on their way off and slumps back into his position on the couch from earlier.

A ring from the doorbell wakes him up from his (hopefully) short slumber, and he gets up to answer it expecting his parents and sister behind the door. What Newt doesn’t expect is to find Thomas looking down at his feet, rosy cheeked and rubbing his hands together; reminiscent of the other night.

“Look, I know I said I wouldn’t bother you anymore, but I think it was a bit rash of me to go without letting you say anything, goodbye even. So here I am.” Thomas looks up at Newt then, eyes full of sadness and caution, as if he were expecting to be hit. _Newt has his last epiphany for a while: it’s now or never. Thomas has another thing coming._

“Oh, you idiot.” is all Newt says before tugging on the hood of Thomas’ windbreaker and kissing him full on the lips. Thomas makes a little noise of shock at the back of his throat before resting his hands around Newt’s neck, pulling him in impossibly closer. Newt smiles through the kiss and laughter bubbles up from him. He can’t believe he was missing _this_ for so long.

When they break apart, it’s to breathe; Thomas stares at him like he’s just run a marathon and Newt is the finish line. _And maybe he is. He sure hopes he is._

“I’m gonna assume you are going to explain what just happened or want it to happen again **,** ” Thomas breathes out. Newt just chuckles and pulls him inside for another kiss.

—

“So you’re telling me you’ve been in love with me for as long as you can remember; and you didn’t even think about mentioning it earlier?” Thomas huffs out a laugh, leaning his head back on Newt’s headboard. _This is just too chick flick for him._

“Of course I thought about it. God, I thought about it everyday, but how was I supposed to know that you felt the same? I didn’t even know you were into guys.” In hindsight, it should’ve been pretty obvious to Newt by then: Thomas flirts with everyone regardless of gender and Teresa always snickers when she sees them together. He’d been so oblivious.

“I even pulled all that shit the other day, and I was-“ Thomas is cut off by the sound of the doorbell, signaling the return of Newt’s family. Newt rushes back downstairs with Thomas in tow; voicing out that he’ll be there in a minute.

Newt’s parents scurry in with the gifts they received; and they make their way to the kitchen, completely ignoring the fact that Thomas is standing in their living room, aside from the rushed ‘Hello Thomas’ from Newt’s father. Sonya walks in from behind; and if she notices Newt’s hand in Thomas’ she doesn’t say anything. (Except the knowing smirk she flashes he brother with says enough.)

When Newt’s mother finally emerges from the kitchen; she asks Thomas if he’s going to stay over for Christmas. Thomas turns to Newt, squeezes his hand and says with an air of finality:

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't the part i link you to my tumblr because i'm not quite sure how to do that (◕‿◕✿); this was once going to be a multi-chaptered fic, but my short attention span wouldn't have it i'm sorry if it seems a bit rushed waaah
> 
> may we meet again when i have an idea i'm crazy enough about to actually finish: see u soon (hopefully) :-)
> 
> merry christmas (and if you don't celebrate it, happy holidays!)


End file.
